


Revelations and Insights

by antigrav_vector



Series: Bingo - Western AU [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 1872, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Secret Wars Battleworlds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Western, Cap_Ironman Bingo, Crossover, M/M, Multiverse, Stony Bingo, Stony Bingo 2016, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: Tony's not all that happy to find out that Junior sees right through him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for the "Sweet Lady Liberty" prompt on my bingo card. Betaed by the lovely [navaan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan).

Between his own clever fingers and Junior's it didn't take them long to get inside, which was a blessing. Tony still ached from his neck to his knees from the beating Bullseye and his two goons had given him. The interior of the small building was dark, and Junior's strange blue circle of light seemed to shine like a star. Tony couldn't bear to look at it for long. He wasn't sure what instinct told him that the topic was a sore one, but somehow he knew it was.

He didn't ask.

"Where do we need to go?" Junior prompted him as Steve carefully hid his distinctively colored horse. Tony paused a moment, dredging the layout of this place back out of the depths of his memory. It had been easily a year and a half since he'd been to see Ben.

"Down into the cellar," Tony replied under his breath, once he was certain, "and we'll have to force another lock to get in."

"So," Junior asked as they descended the stairs carefully, "you gonna tell me why it is we can't let Urich look implicated?"

Tony bit back a sigh. "Fisk and Roxxon took his wife hostage," he answered, wearily, "and have repeatedly threatened to kill her. I personally believe she's probably already dead, but I won't say that to Urich and destroy him. Nor will I bring trouble down on that man that he does not deserve. He tried to expose Fisk and Roxxon once already, and failed. He's suffered enough."

Junior went quiet for long enough that Steve caught up with them. Eventually he spoke again. "So he's suffered enough," he asked, "and you haven't?"

His overactive conscience stung, Tony only barely remembered to keep his voice down. "You have _no idea_ what you're talking about and _no right_ to talk about it."

"No idea, he says," Junior scoffed, and the door finally popped open under Tony's hands. "No idea. Stark, I was known as the Merchant of Death for the first four decades of my life because the weapons I designed for the US military -- to keep our military boys alive, mind you -- were so damned good at killing, and that isn't ever going away, no matter how many lives I save. I know how the guilt can eat you alive. How the nightmares can wake you night after night. I know _damn well_ what I'm talking about. Too well, in fact."

Steve was carefully keeping quiet, Tony noted, almost annoyed by that fact. Before he could say a word about it Junior distracted him, though, and turned to catch his eyes, expression deadly serious. "You want to know about this," he said, tapping at the light beneath his shirt, "but you don't want to ask. Don't deny it, I know my own expressions."

Junior walked over to the telegraph machine and started running his fingers over it carefully, testing the spring's tension and looking for the switch that would turn it on. "Well, I'll tell you. It's my penance. It's my daily reminder that someone thought I could fix my mistakes." He found the switch and flicked the machine on. "Now shut the fuck up about whose past is bloodier and tell me who to address this message to."

It took Tony thirty long seconds to find the voice to speak. For all his strangeness, Junior had cut right to the heart of the matter and Tony needed to process that.

He hadn't managed, when he replied, but he knew he needed to answer. "To the editor of the Washington Post," Tony whispered, knowing his voice carried echoes of his stunned silence, "Mr. J. Jonah Jameson. He'll make sure the story runs."

\------


End file.
